The Potter Files
by Lyra Silvertongue2
Summary: Okay, here's the deal: my sister and I thought it would be incredibly amusing to have Mulder and Scully investigate Harry Potter. It was her idea. But don't worry, we think it is a joke as much as you do. So laugh. ^_^
1. A Pointless Investigation

Disclaimer: We own nothing. NOTHING!   
Authors' note: That's right, there's two of us. Fear us. We are a deadly team. Okay, so here's the deal. My sister and I have written this piece of silly crap for you. We find it very amusing. We hope that you do as well. Enjoy yourselves!   
***   
Scully was sitting in Mulder's office one day, examining the results of an autopsy. She was just looking over some strange findings, when suddenly, Mulder rushed in, grinning. "Scully, Scully, look!" he yelled excitedly.   
"What, Mulder?" she asked calmly.   
He smiled broadly. "Ruins in England," he said, "graffiti on the wall of the name 'Draco Malfoy.' There are some pretty interesting rumors about it, too."   
Scully paused, looking at him. "So?"   
If possible, he grinned even wider. "So! They say--get ready for this, Scully--they say that no normal person has ever been able to enter the ruins!" He paused for dramatic effect.   
Scully was not excited. "...your point?"   
He made a gesture as if she should already know, and after a pause and a confused look from Scully, he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world: "We're going!"   
"What?! Mulder! There is no evidence to convince me that this is anything even *nearing* an X-File. I'm not going." There was a brief pause, and she picked up a file that was thrown on the desk in front of her. "Look, Mulder," she said, dangling the file tantalizingly in front of his face, "a nice juicy alien abduction. Sure you don't want to look into this instead?"   
Mulder dashed out of the room, laughing. As he went, he called, "Too late, Scully! Our flight's already booked! I'll meet you at the airport."   
***   
Next day, Scully shifted uncomfortably in an airliner seat obviously designed for creatures not of this world. She looked over at Mulder, who was attempting to headbang to an alien abduction report on the radio, and sighed, turning back to her laptop.   
[Further information will have to be gathered at the site, where my partner supposedly believes there is some sort of 'magic' taking place.] Scully stopped typing. "Mulder!" she called, hoping to get his attention.   
He continued headbanging.   
"MULDER!" Some people in seats around her got a little annoyed, telling her to quiet down. She poked him, pissed of. "Mulder."   
"Huh? What?"   
"Did you say this was occult 'magic'?"   
"Huh?" he removed the headphones. Scully sighed and repeated her question. "Oh, uh, no. No. I think this is something that hasn't been heard of before." Scully rolled her eyes, and gestured for Mulder to put his headphones back on. He was about to comply when the airplane's intercom crackled on. Some shouting was heard, presumably by the Captain. Mulder dropped his headphones, and looked at his watch. He pointed the time out to Scully, just before there was a bright flash that filled the cabin.   
Scully came back into herself to find that she was no longer looking at Mulder's watch. "Look, Scully!" came the frantic cry from behind her. "Nine minutes! We're missing minutes!"   
"SHHHHHHH," a person in an adjacent seat pointed out empatically.   
"Oh. Sorry."   
***   
Three hours later, the plane landed. An hour after after that, the pair of agents were staring confusedly at an extremely large corpse.   
"That is one big-ass dead dog," Scully proclaimed. "Three heads. Must be some sort of genetic abnormality."She shot a glance at Mulder. "Or, it could be that two of the heads are false."   
Mulder was almost too excited to speak. "Hey, Scully," he nudged her, staring ecstatically at the dog, "if I had three heads, would you go out with me?"   
Scully scowled, and turned to the law enforcement officer who had been kind enough to bring them to the site. "I can perform the autopsy...I'd prefer not to, but I can."   
Mulder turned to her, grinning. "Oh, would you, Scully? Pleeeeeease?"   
Four hours after *that* stirring conversation, after a crane had been brought in, and the dog had been moved to a large empty warehouse, Scully informed Mulder of her feelings on the situation. "This is disgusting." She wiped her hands off, after removing two bloody latex gloves, which hadn't done much good. She was covered in...well, let's not speak about that. She informed Mulder of her results.   
Mulder couldn't stop giggling like a little girl when he heard that all three heads were, in fact, quite real. "The adrenaline level was quite high when it died," Scully told him, "but I can't seem to find a cause of death. And you *don't* want to know what the last meal was."   
"Oh, I do."   
"No. You don't."   
***   
Later that day, the two FBI agents found themselves interviewing an elderly man who claimed to have known the dog. This old man's name was Harry Potter, an orphan. But, he also claimed that the dog's name was 'Fluffy,' the building that made the ruins was a wizarding school called 'Hogwarts,' the headmaster's name was 'Dumbledore,' and when asked about the scar on his face, which resembled a lightning bolt, he said that an evil wizard called 'Voldemort' had given it to him, using magic. Everybody in the nursing thought he was quite crazy, including Scully, except for Mulder, who insisted on taking his number.   
"Well, that was useless," Scully told him as they walked out of the nursing home.   
"Are you kidding? He just provided us with a first-hand account of real magic. Do you know what this means, Scully?"   
"It means that A.D. Skinner is going to think I've gone off the deep end when he reads my report?"   
"No! It means that we have to meet this Ronald Weasley he told us about."   
"Forget it, Mulder. I've had enough of this crap. *You* can meet this Ronald Weasley. *I'm* going shopping." Mulder gave her the dreaded puppy-dog look. "No." He increased the wattage a bit. "Mulder! It's my first time in London!" He stuck out his lip. Scully scoffed, and headed in the other direction. "Amateur," she muttered to herself, heading to a car-rental place nearby.   
***   
Pulling up in her ridiculous English car, one hour later, Scully found that she did indeed have a great deal of trouble driving on the wrong side of the road. She stopped in front of a large bookstore that looked promising, but after a half-hour's search, she could find no books that she hadn't read on medical science.   
Frustrated, she wandered back onto the street. As she was heading back to her ridiculous English car, she spotted a dingy bar stuck in between two superstore. A sign above the door read "The Leaky Cauldron." Convinced that this was something that her partner would be interested to hear about later, she wandered inside and sat down. All the patrons around her were dressed rather oddly. They appeared to be wearing dresses. Scully felt very out-of-place.   
"What can I get ya, miss?" said a man who appeared to be twenty years old, but, nonetheless, was missing all his teeth.   
"Ugh. The strongest you've got."   
The man looked surprised. "You sure about that, miss?"   
She glared at him. "I'm sure. Bring it here."   
Trembling, he reached behind the bar and pulled out a bottle that appeared to be steaming. He poured a tiny bit of it into a glass, but as he was pouring, he spilled a drop on the bar. The wood melted beneath it. Still shaking, he extended the glass to her. Scully didn't have a second thought before draining the glass.   
"Whoo!"   
"Miss?"   
"Hit me again!"   
Four glasses of the steaming stuff later...   
"So, *Mulder,* who is a total idiot, seems to believe in this *magic* stuff," Scully slurred, slopping more of the steaming drink on the bar. The toothless man dodged the liquid in fear. "And so he dragged *me* out here to *England,* can you believe it, England! And *I* had to perform *another* autopsy on some weird creature with three heads."   
"Oh. That's too bad. I was rather attached to Fluffy."   
"You know him? So did that kook in the nursing home."   
"Who, miss?"   
"Oh, some Harry Potter person."   
"Harry Potter, miss?" he said incredulously. "You met him?" He paused. "Did you get an autograph?"   
"Pssh," said Scully, collapsing onto the bar.   
***   
To be continued... 


	2. Two Silly Old Men

Hannah and I, after much giggling, have produced this...piece of artwork. Right. Absolutely. We want to thank all those who reviewed--we're glad to know you enjoyed our first chapter. We hope you like one, too. ^_^

***

There was a distinct atmosphere of whimsy as he entered the house, and Mulder had to try and contain his excitement, since Scully wasn't there to hold up her end of the dignity department. Mr. Potter stumbled in the doorway, and Mulder caught him before he fell down. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Ronald Weasley sat in an old armchair, staring a picture in a home made macaroni frame. "My wife," he said by way of explanation as Mulder helped the elderly Mr. Potter to his seat. "She died last year...on this date."

"I'm sorry."

"I miss Hermione, too, Ron," said Harry in a scratchy voice. Weasley set the frame down, sighing to himself. Mulder pulled his badge out from the depths of his coat, seating himself opposite Weasley.

"Mr. Weasley, my name is Fox Mulder, I'm an FBI agent."

"FBI?" There was a brief, amused pause as Ron and Harry exchanged glances. "You mean Frenzied Blokes In bikinis?" Wheezy laughter filled the room.

"Uh, no," Mulder told him, amused. "Federal Bureau of Investigation."

"Yeah, we know. We're just being doofs. So why do you want to talk to us, Mr. Mulder?"

"Um, my partner and I came to England to investigate some ruins in the countryside. Mr. Potter," he gestured, "called them, uh, Hogwarts?" Harry nodded slowly. "While we were there, we found a body--a body of an enormous three-headed dog."

Suddenly Ron burst into tears. "First Hermione, then Fluffy! Who's next? Not you, Harry!" Potter reached across the gap to pat his friend on the back.

"'S okay, Ron. It was his time, anyway."

"How did he die?" asked Weasley, wiping tears from his wrinkled face.

"Uh, cause of death hasn't been determined. The only information we could find was--"

"Did he look scared?"

"What?"

"Did he look scared?" Ron looked to his friend. "It might have been Avada Kedavra."

"But who would want to kill Fluffy?"

"Might've been little Elvis Malfoy."

"Elvis?" Mulder looked amused.

"Yeah, the Malfoy family has a tradition of calling their offspring silly things. Take Draco, for instance."

"Draco!" Ron burst into laughter. Mulder made a mental note that Mr. Weasley's emotions seemed to be all over the map. "How about Lucius?"

"Yeah, old man Lucy," Harry joined in, laughing. "Now _ there_ was a mean bugger if I ever saw one."

"Uh," Mulder interjected, "what would, um, Elvis's motive be for killing...Fluffy?"

"Elvis has always been mean. Took after his father. He had something against Fluffy, prob'ly 'cause we liked 'im."

"Poor Fluffy," Harry remarked. "Didn't have anyone to look after him after Hagrid died."

"Poor Hagrid," Ron burst into tears again. "Hagrid, Hermione, Fluffy!" He ticked off the dead on his fingers. "Don't you leave me, too, Harry!" Potter's hand bridged the gap between them again.

"Gentlemen? I'm looking for some information on this...school of wizardry Mr. Potter mentioned."

"Yeah, Hogwarts. I miss the place. I would have taught there, but I wanted to follow m'dad in the Ministry."

"The Ministry?"

"The Ministry of Magic."

"Magic?" Mulder shifted forward in his seat, interested. "What sort of magic?"

"Y'know. Witchcraft. Wizardry. That's what Hogwarts was for. Taught us how to do Magic."

"Remember Dumbledore, Ron?"

Ron burst into tears again. "I've never met a finer wizard!" He went over the list again, "Dumbledore, Hagrid, Hermione, Fluffy! Don't you leave me too, Harry!" Once again, Potter's hand went to Weasley's back. He quieted down after a few seconds, sniffling.

"Yeah, Hogwarts was the finest school for Witchcraft and Wizardry in the world, I dare say," Harry continued. "There were four houses. Ravenclaw."

"Bunch of brainiacs."

"Hufflepuff."

"Bunch o' duffers," Ron remarked, amused again.

"Slytherin."

"Evil folk," Ron said scornfully.

"And Gryffindor."

"The cream of the crop! That was our house."

"Neville's too," said Harry. "He was the most cowardly one there." He sighed. "I miss Neville."

For the fourth time since Mulder and Potter had arrived, Ron burst into tears. "Neville, Dumbledore, Hagrid, Hermione, and Fluffy! Don't you leave me too, Harry!" The same action as the three previous times was repeated.

"What exactly did you learn at this school?" Mulder asked, trying to get a handle on the conversation.

"We told you, magic. Hey--you want a demonstration?"

"You sure that's wise, Ron?"

"Woo, Harry, you sound just like Hermione. Come on, why not have a little fun?"

"Well, we haven't done it in awhile, Ron." He paused, considering. "Sure. Why not?" He pulled out a wooden stick from his pocket.

"What's that?" Mulder leaned forward again.

"That's his wand," Ron informed him. "It's what we wizards use for magic. Come on, Harry, show 'im something."

"What should I show him?"

"No, wait, let me," Ron pulled out a similar stick. "Used this one to save the old lady once. Here. Swish and flick, remember, Harry?" He raised the stick. "Wingardium Leviosa!" With those words, and Mulder wouldn't have believed it otherwise, Potter's hairpiece floated into the air above his head, then fell back onto his liverspotted head, landing backwards in a most undignified manner.

Harry straightened it out. "Watch it, Ron."

"Sorry," he chuckled.

"H-how did you do that?"

"It's called a charm. It was just one of our classes at Hogwarts. We also took Divination, Transfiguration, Potions..."

"Potions. Remember old Snape?"

"Yeah. Remember when he wouldn't let us go up to the owlery to send me mum a note?"

"Yeah, yeah. I miss Hedwig...and Pigwidgeon."

"Hedwig, Pigwidgeon, Dumbledore, Hagrid, Neville, Hermione, Fluffy! Don't you leave me too, Harry!" (Authors' note: Don't worry, this is the last one) Once again, Harry's hand went across and met Ron's back, soothing him.

"It's okay, Ron. It's okay."

Mulder was a bit fed up with this reminiscing, even if he did find it vastly amusing. He needed to get some real information. "Well, thank you very much for your help. I was wondering if there was anyone else I could contact to find out more about this case."

"Draco!" Ron cried again, laughing. "He's a good one to call. You should go visit him."

"Where can I find him?" Mulder pulled out a pad of paper and a pen.

"Shady Acres Motor Homes." This is where both the old men burst out laughing.

"We'll never let 'im forget it, will we, Ron? Draco Malfoy, richest kid at Hogwarts, living in a trailer park!"

"Well, thank you, you two. I trust you can call for a taxi, Mr. Potter?"

"Yeah, I think I'll stay here awhile. Ron could use a nap." Mulder backed out of the house, leaving the two men to their laughter, then headed for his rental car, to go visit the Shady Acres Motor Homes.

***

Another ridiculous chapter. Come on, you know it's funny. More to come soon! 


	3. Eleven Gallons?

pTo recap: Mulder and Scully have flown to England to investigate some ruins found in the countryside. Mulder is incredibly excited about the whole affair. Scully, however, is not excited in the least, and has gone out to have a few drinks in a dingy bar while Mulder interviews some key witnesses.   
pSpecial Authors' notes: It's not totally out-of-character to have Scully in a bar. After all, she is an adult, and beforehand, we did write her as saying it was a place Mulder would have gone to further investigate the case (/i she /i just finished an autopsy on a dog the size of Kansas).  
pExtra-special Authors' note: If you think that this story is out-of-line with the Harry Potter context, juuuuuust you wait...lol.  
  
***  
  
p"Miss? Uh...miss?" The toothless bartender tapped the top of a head of red hair. Scully slowly lifted her face from the bar.  
p"Yeah, wassit?"  
p"I wos thinkin', miss–since this partner o'yours seems so interested in, er, magic...and you don't seem to believe in it," he added, a little woundedly, "I was thinkin' that maybe you could just...go in back and tap a few bricks on the wall, maybe? Just–for my sake, huh?"  
p"Sssssure, cutie. Whatever you say." After a few false starts, Scully managed to stumble out the back door, knocking over a table and a vase in the process. She fell into brick wall with a giggle, and started flapping her hands over the stone. "Hee-hee," she told the wall, and stopped moving. With a last bit of goofy strength, she lifted a finger and tapped a brick to the tune of 'shave and a haircut.' To her intoxicated surprise (as in: "Hey, hee-hee, didn't expect that to happen"), the bricks drew themselves apart from beneath her. She pushed herself away just in time to stay upright, and found herself looking at a suddenly-open archway.  
pTilting her head back, Scully spotted a banner over the archway. The letters danced in and out of sight. "Happy New Year," she slurred aloud, reading it to herself. "Two-thousand-'n'-forty-seven. Heh-heh, must've been a misprint." Luckily for our drunken FBI agent that she didn't notice the fact that the letters were, in fact, dancing.  
pShe caught herself before she fell forward, and stumbled into a busy, if chilly, street. Folks in dresses were everywhere–more cause for Scully to giggle. Still chortling, she made her way down the street a ways before spotting the least brightly-colored sign. "Olli–olli-vandalism–vanders," she read, turning half-serious for a moment. She pushed the door open, letting it jingle shut behind her, and found herself in a greatly more musty environment than she had previously been occupying. The walls were lined with thin cardboard boxes, stacked precariously. One even fell to the ground as she watched, but went right back to the top of the pile again. "Must be rubber," Scully reasoned. There was a rustle from the back room.  
p"Hello, there. Shopping for your daughter?"  
p"Daughter? No," Scully laughed. "I don't have a daughter." She hit him weakly, as if to say 'why, sir, what a silly notion.'  
p"Ah, dressed as a Muggle I see. Good–I'm glad to see that some witches are still trying to travel incognito."  
p"I suppose you broke your wand, eh?" He leaned a little closer and sniffed her breath. She giggled and a made a face. "It must have been some disaster. All right, then, we'll soon have you outfitted with a new wand, miss–what was your name?"  
p"Scully," she cleared her throat, straightening out her suit jacket. "I'm an agent with the-"  
p"Ministry? Yes, all right, then, try this one out." He pulled a seemingly random box off of a nearby shelf, and pulled out a small wooden stick. "Unicorn hair, cherrywood, slightly whippy. Wonderful for transfiguration." Without hesitation, he shoved the wand into Scully's hand. She held it up in front of her for inspection, smiling.   
p"Nope, that one won't work. Here, try this one."  
pThe procedure was repeated a few more times, before finally:  
p"Phoenix feather, oak, very sturdy."  
pA small spark came out of the end of the wand. Scully squinted at it, then giggled.  
p"Yes, I'm afraid that's the best we're going to get. That will be eleven Galleons, miss."  
p"Yeah, I bet I drank about eleven gallons." Scully laughed a bit more.  
p"Right. Your name is Scully?"  
pShe nodded enthusiastically.  
p"I'll put it on your tab, all right? Come back when you've had some coffee."  
p"Byeeeeeeeee, nice sticky-guy! Thank you for the sticky!" The vendor waved politely as she tried pushing the door a few times, before realizing it went the other way. "Ohh-ho." She pulled it open, and paused for a few seconds to blink in the bright daylight.  
p"Strangest witch I've ever seen, and I've seen a few. Wonder where she got her last wand. Ah, well." Ollivander headed back into the rear of the shop, without noticing who seized Scully after a few short steps.  
  
***  
  
Stepping lightly to avoid some of the more uncivilized ground decorations in the trailer park, Mulder made his way to the trailer in lot 15, and knocked on the door.  
"Yeah, bloody what?"came a hoarse shout from inside. "Who's come to bother me?" The voice grew louder as the occupant of the trailer home made his way to the door, which swung open, revealing an old, grumpy-looking man. "Who are you? I'm not buying anything."  
"Mr. Malfoy? My name is Fox Mulder, I'm with the FBI?"  
"What, Frenzied Blokes In bikinis?" Some evil laughter escaped the blistered lips of this man, and that was when Mulder realized that Mr. Malfoy couldn't have meant that as a joke for both of them.  
"I need to ask you a few questions. May I come inside?"  
"Sure, sure, if you have to. I'm not in trouble or anything, am I?" Malfoy stood aside to let Mulder into the cramped R.V. "I'm not answering any questions if I'm in trouble."  
"No. I, uh, I just need to ask you about–Hogwarts. Did I say that right?"  
"Hogwarts? They're lettin' anybody know about it, huh? Y'know, I was the richest kid there."  
"So you went there, too."  
"Yeah. Who you been talking to?"  
"A Mr. Harry Potter–"  
"Potter? He told you to come see me?" The name was dripping with disdain.  
"Yeah, he said you'd want to help me."  
"Help you? Heck, I'll give you all the bloody secrets available. Say, what's this whole investigation about, then? Am I going to be in the paper?"  
"My partner and I have found the body of a dog with more heads than tails."  
"Fluffy? He's dead?"  
"I'm afraid so."  
Malfoy pumped an arm. "/i Hated that bugger."  
Mulder cleared his throat. "Mr. Potter mentioned that one of the prime suspects was your son–" here, he suppressed a laugh. "Elvis."  
"Elvis? He'd never hurt a fly. Muggles, now there's another story."  
Purely looking for information about the case, now, Mulder leaned forward. "Would you suspect anyone you know to have any reason at all to kill this dog?"  
Malfoy glared hard at the agent, and Mulder, for the first time, noticed his cold eyes. "No," Malfoy answered firmly after a long pause. "And I suggest you mind your own business...Mudblood. Now get out of my trailer."  
"Just one more question, Mr. Malfoy," said Mulder, pushing his luck a little. "How was it you came to be in this trailer?"  
"OUT!" Malfoy stood suddenly, pointing harshly at the tiny door. "GO!"  
"Thanksforansweringmyquestions,Mr.Malfoy,haveaniceday," Mulder said quickly, backing out the door, since he had noticed the way that his interviewee's hand had shot to his pocket. No gun, obviously, could protect him from this Hogwarts attendees.  
Pausing in his car to think, Mulder popped a sunflower seed into his mouth. There was nothing to be done about it. He'd have to beg Scully to come back and help him.  
  
***  
  
There ya go. Feedback gets more chapters, more quickly. Of course, they're coming anyway, lol. :D See ya next time! 


	4. Hippos in Nylons

Beforehand, we'd just like to apologize for the formatting in the last chapter. Thank you, and enjoy this ultra-long section.

***

Scully found herself being dragged through the marketplace and back into the dingy bar in which this adventure had started. In a surprising moment of sobriety, she shoved the wand she had just procured into her pocket, and spent the rest of the trip giggling. She was dumped onto a barstool, and finally found out who it was, exactly, that had seized her. The red hair was almost overwhelming in her vision, and it wasn't the classy kind of red hair that Scully herself boasted. The man kneeled down beside her, and cracked a nervous grin. "I'll just ask you outright. Do you know anything about magic?"

There was a long pause, and Scully stared him down with glazed eyes. Then her face broke into a smile. "What's yer name, cutie?" She prodded him in the chest.

"I," he announced self-assuredly, "am more commonly known as Percy Weasley the Second." You could hear the capital letter on the numeral. Scully, had she been less intoxicated, would have scoffed at his proud manner. As it was, she just smiled at him unknowingly. "Now, I'll need to know your name."

"I," she said mock-proudly, giggling once again, "am more commonly known as Special Agent Dana Katherine Scully, or," she paused for dramatic effect, "Mrs. Spooky." She leaned close enough for him to smell the deadly alcohol on her breath, and said confidentially, "that's with the F.B.I."

"What, Frenzied Blokes In bikinis?" Scully giggled at this, shaking her head emphatically. Her hair flew and tangled with itself, ruining her somewhat degraded (by now) professional effect. "Look, I'll have you know, Mrs..." he paused, a bit confused, "...Mrs. Spooky, that we with the Ministry of Magic do not take very kindly to Muggle invasions."

"That---that--someone said that to me before. What a silly word." She chuckled. "But I'm still not clear," she slurred, "on what, _exactly_, a 'Muggle' is."

"Non-magic," he sighed. "And, yes, you are one. Most definitely. I'm afraid Ministry procedure is very strict about this, Mrs. Spooky," he said gravely.

Scully, distracted, pointed out to him, in case he hadn't noticed, "Hee-hee, you're wearin' a dress."

Weasley pulled another one of those 'sticky-thingies' out of his 'dress,' pointed it at Scully, who automatically reached for her gun, and fumbled with it, as he said a nonsense word. Everything went black.

***

Sunflower seeds seemed to be appearing spontaneously on the right side of a car in a library parking lot. Popping another seed into his mouth and spitting it out the window, Mulder mulled over the case in hand. Elvis Malfoy was still the primary suspect--in fact, even though they had seemed to want to help, Potter and Weasley had really told him next to nothing. Elvis Malfoy, while primary suspect in the case, was virtually unknown to the investigator. No motive had yet been established as to why someone would want to kill a three-headed dog.

And the main reason why Mulder had dragged his partner to England, his curiosity into this supposed 'magic,' had yet to be fulfilled. Sure, he had seen some actual proof...but it wouldn't be enough to convince Scully.

"Hope you're havin' fun, wherever you are, Scully," he said aloud to his latest sunflower seed, before popping it into his mouth. "Whatever you're doing, I'm sure it's more fun than talking to a bunch of wrinkly old men." He paused. "Who am I talking to?" Another sunflower seed flew out of his window, and to Mulder's surprise, there was a yell from outside.

"Hey! Watch where you're spittin' those!" A female passerby cried, dodging the flying seed, which almost touched her long, greasy black hair. She stuck a tongue out at Mulder before continuing on her way. Mulder smiled, amused, before answering his ringing cell phone.

"There's been another murder," a voice came through the cell phone--the police chief's. "And it's more than just an animal this time."

"Who's been murdered?"

"One 'Dracko Malfoy,'" the chief replied, mispronouncing the name. "In a--"

"Trailer park, I know. I'll be right there."

***

"Yeah," Ron countered, "but how would we _get_ the hippopotamuses _into_ the nylons?"

There was a slight snore from the other chair.

"Harry." He prodded his friend.

"Huh? What?"

"I _said-_"

Just then there was a knock at the door.

"Hold on!" Ron took about a half a minute to hoist himself out of his seat. "Who's there?!"

"I--" came a hesitant voice from the other side of the door, cutting itself off.

"Never mind!" Ron leaned heavily on his walker. "Just wait a few minutes! I'm comin' as fast as I can!" A few long minutes later, when Harry had fallen, once again, fast asleep in his chair, Ron pulled the door open. A young woman with long, wispy black hair (we're talkin' split ends here, folks) stood on the doorstep, looking pale, if not downright ashen. "Young lady," Ron started, "you look the spitting image of--"

"You don't know me," she cut him off. "But I've done something really horrible. Can I come in?" She pleaded him with her eyes to acknowledge her request.

"Right, then." He stood aside.

***

The bleary image of a toothless man swam into Scully's view. "Huh?" she queried tiredly. "Where--back in the bar?"

"Yes, miss. Do you remember anything?"

"I--" Scully sat up, then brought her hand quickly to her head as she felt the pains of a hangover strike her. She paused a few seconds, thinking. "No," she said, astonished. 

"Yeah, well, that's common, after drinking as much as you did. I'll call you a cab, then, shall I?"

"Yes...uh, thank you." Scully watched him head into the other room, rubbing her temples. She looked down at her pumps, pondering. How did she manage to drink enough to black out? That wasn't like her. She looked up suddenly at a honk from outside, then clutched once again at her head. "Owwwwwwww..."

The cab dropped her off at her hotel, fifteen minutes later, and Scully found herself facing a bit of a problem checking in.

"Uh...sorry, we don't have you listed for a reservation."

"Are you sure you spelled the name right?" Scully groaned a bit. "M-U-L-"

"Yeah, I got it."

"Could you check again?"

"Lemme try a different search." The concierge studied the screen curiously. "That's odd."

"What?"

"I have your reservations listed for--fifty years ago," she said, astonished. "Hmm. Must be a computer glitch."

Sighing, Scully said, "do you have anything available?"

"We're pretty packed right now, but...there _is_ a--"

***

Police lights were flashing through the dusk at the Shady Acres Trailer Park as Mulder made his way over to the crime scene. Residents of nearby trailers were being interviewed--Mulder heard them saying things like "I never liked that guy anyway." Pushing his way through the cluster of people, he made his way to the police chief. 

"How was he killed?" 

"We don't know. It wasn't natural, though, I can tell ya that."

"May I see the crime scene?"

"Sure, why not? Won't hurt anyone." 

The old man was sprawled on the floor of the dingy old trailer. Mulder bent down to examine his face--the late Malfoy looked incredibly shocked at something.

"What do you think, Mr. Mulder?"

"I think that I need my partner's opinion on this. She's a medical doctor--can you hold the body for her, so she can perform the autopsy herself?"

"How long will we need to hold it?"

"Just until tomorrow. I'm sure Scully will be up to it by then."

***

"I cannot believe I have to share a one-bed hotel room with Mulder," Scully said flatly to the empty room, dropping her luggage on the floor. She next to threw herself on the bed, sinking gratefully into the four pillows. "Oh, yeah," she said, "he's sleeping on the floor." Snuggling into the pillow, she felt her headache abate the tiniest bit, and sighed deeply in relief. Baby steps to recovery. This was really--

BOOM!

"Boy, Scully, am I glad to see you," Mulder announced loudly to his partner, who shrank into herself on the bed. "Hey, they said at the desk we have to share a room. Tryin' to get closer to me, Scully?"

"There was a computer glitch," she mumbled into her pillow. "Get me aspirin? Please?"

He looked concernedly at her. "You okay? You look like you just put back a few dozen shots of tequila."

"Something like that. Please?"

He dug through his bag. "Sure. I knew I'd need some--I knew you'd be yelling at me the whole trip."

Scully groaned into her pillow.

"Here you go. Enjoy." He swung himself into the room's only chair as Scully hauled herself off the bed to get some water. "You wouldn't believe some of the stuff I saw today, Scully. It was amazing."

"Did you find anything out about the case?"

"Not really. One of the guys I interviewed died the same way as Fluffy--er, the three-headed dog." Scully plodded out of the bathroom and sank onto the bed. She tossed back her aspirin, then set the glass down heavily, putting her hand to her head once again. "There was that same look of surprise on his face. And he probably had lots of adrenaline in him, too...you're doing the autopsy tomorrow, by the way." Scully groaned again, shifting on the bed. "But I saw the most amazing thing today, Scully. I know you're not gonna believe it, but it was--"

"What's this?" Scully had reached into her pocket, and now examined the object she had pulled out closely before looking back up at Mulder. "How did this get in my pocket without me knowing about it?"

"I know my conversation is stimulating, but try not to be too overwhelmed by it, Scully," said Mulder wryly, before realizing what she was holding. "Hey, that's what Potter and Weasley showed me today...where'd you get that?"

"I just told you, I don't know," she said, annoyed. "I've blanked out most of my time in London...and I don't believe it was just because I got really, to put it the British way, 'pissed.'"

"You got drunk?" He stood up and walked over to her as he spoke, removing the wand from her hands. "_You_ got drunk?"

"Yeah--I found this really nasty little place. I figured it was something you would like, so I went in and had a couple. Why is this such a big surprise? What, you think I don't have a few drinks every once in awhile?"

"No, no, I think you have your own life, Scully, and it's really--none of my business," Mulder was distracted, looking closely at the wand. 

"Hmmph." She rubbed the side of her head. "I thought you would be interested in this place. It was called something like 'The Mended Cauldron' or something."

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Mulder exclaimed suddenly, waving the wand wildly at the opposite wall. The lights flickered.

"Oh, no, now the lights are going. What else could go wrong?"

"Wow. I made that happen."

"What are you talking about, Mulder? It was just a defective lightbulb."

"Look." He pointed behind her. She turned painfully, and spotted the scorchmark on the wall. She turned back to him. "You're paying for that."

"Oops," he said sheepishly. His cell phone rang, and he set the wand down cautiously before answering it. Meanwhile, Scully began to look a little green around the gills. "Mulder." 

"Yes, may I speak to Miss Scully?"

At that moment, Scully stood up very quickly and bolted for the bathroom. Sounds of retching were heard.

"She's a bit preoccupied at the moment. Can I take a message?"

"Yes, it's about the autopsy on the dog. These forms--are you sure I can't to her?"

A particularly loud retching sound was heard. "Very sure."

"She's filled the wrong date on these forms."

"Guess she lost track of time." Mulder looked into the crack between the bathroom door and wall. He really wanted to go in there, maybe ask her if she was okay, just to test his theory that no matter what the circumstance, she would always be 'fine.'

"She lost track of fifty years?"

"Fifty...can I call you back?"

"Yes, of course. The sooner the better, though, please." Mulder closed his phone and went into the bathroom. Scully was not looking well, to put it mildly. He lifted her hair out of her face, and, just because he couldn't resist,

"You okay?"

"I'm--"

***

Another chapter. I have to tell you, though, that Hannah felt that one line in particular was so amusing she couldn't stop mentioning it. It's--ah--quite memorable. You know which I'm talkin' about. Anyway, we appreciate feedback, and, trust us, we have some very amusing plans for this story. Disturbingly amusing. Reviews make us write faster. Feed me, Seymour!

:D


	5. Oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a b...

Authors' Note: Sorry about the delay. Stuff happened. Too much stuff to talk about here. Thanks for waiting!! Enjoy!  
  
*********  
  
Scully, in high spirits, after recovering from the previous night, bubbled, "Why I don't I drive this time, Mulder?"  
Mystified, but bored with the dull surroundings, Mulder responded, "Sure, Scully. Whatever. As long as we get to the morgue, I'll be fine."  
Scully clambered into the tiny British vehicle, and chipperly examined the car's various buttons and knobs. To her left was a tiny control panel that allowed her to move the automated seats backwards or forwards. Her seat was about a foot and half away from where she needed it to be, so she pressed the forward button just as Mulder was strapping himself into his seat.  
Whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr--  
Mulder looked at his watch.  
--iiirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.  
"Sixty-five seconds, Scully. I'd call it missing time, but we knew where we were the whole time," Mulder cracked, looking up from his watch. Scully glared at him.  
"I'm in a good mood," she said crossly, "so don't spoil it."  
Mulder grinned at her as she pulled the car out of the parking lot.  
  
*********  
  
"*Yes,* Harry, but *why* would the giraffes want to *eat* the Lucky Charms?"  
Snoring came from the armchair opposite Ron's.  
"Although this is an enrapturing conversation," the black-haired girl began, "I hope you'll allow me to cut in."  
"Harry, wake up."  
[Snort, snort, snorrrre]  
"Harry, *wake up*!"  
"Huh? What? Oh. Sure. So...what's your name again, young lady?"  
"Alsatia. Don't laugh," she said quickly.  
Ron let out a quick snort, then excused it, "Sorry, nasal congestion. You understand."  
"And why did you come here?" Harry prompted.  
"I need your help. Well, I need to confess something." She took a deep breath, during which Ron interjected--  
"But, Harry, the giraffes, I mean, really! Lucky Charms?"  
"Ron! Shut up! The girl wants to say something!"  
Under her breath, Alsatia muttered, "And to think this man could have been my father..." More loudly, she said, "I am Hermione Granger's daughter."  
Much shocked gasping followed this.  
Then there was a shocked silence, broken by "Ron, maybe they didn't eat *Lucky* Charms. Maybe Count Chocula."  
"You're Hermione's daughter? *No.* Really?"  
"Yes. Look, I have my birth certificate here," she dug it out and showed it to him, deliberately covering the part that said the name of her father.  
"No kidding," Ron said faintly.  
"Well, maybe not Count *Chocula,* but certainly Frosted Flakes."  
"Who's your father, then? I'm assuming it's me until further notice."  
"Or maybe Wheaties," Harry continued.  
"Who were you going to say I was the spitting image of, before? Huh?"  
"Or Cheerios. But it's really a stretch."  
"I was going to say you look the spitting image of...son of a billy goat," he said, as he realized who her father was.  
Harry snapped to attention. "What? What'd I miss?"  
"Harry! This girl's dad is--"  
"My father is--"  
"Who's her father?!"  
(Authors' Note: Could we drag this out a little longer?)  
"What?!"  
"My father is--"  
"What?!"  
(Authors' Note: Yeah, we could)  
"Shut up, both of you! My father's name is--"  
"Her father's name is--"  
"Who is it? What?!"  
"SNAPE! MY DAD'S SNAPE!"  
There was an extremely long pause.  
"Froot Loops, maybe..." Harry pondered. (Authors' Note: Okay, that was the last time)  
"How?! Why?!" Ron paused to think about it. "He didn't--she didn't--EW!"  
"It was rape," she said quietly. "Remember that trip she took to Africa? The sabbatical?"  
"Oh my God..." Ron said. Harry echoed him, finally catching up to the conversation. Then Harry said,  
"Ick."  
"How could I not have known? How could--oh my God. She was my *wife.* My *love.*"  
"Ew," said Harry, still thinking of how Alsatia had come to be.  
"Where is Snape now? I'll kill the bastard."  
"You can't. He's already dead. I killed him myself."  
"How?"  
"It was an accident. I didn't mean for it to happen."  
"Tell us the whole story," Harry told her, for the first time since the beginning of his visit, awake. He'd spent the night at Ron's snoozing in that same armchair (*not* in the same bed as Ron, you dirty-minded people, you).  
"Well. It all started when..."  
  
*********  
  
"So *why* are you in such a good mood today, Scully?" They were walking into the morgue.  
"Because we're taking a little side trip today, Mulder. To a place that has nothing to do with magic," she answered, smiling brightly.  
"*Where* are we going?"  
If possible, her grin widened. "Oxford."  
"What?! Oh, no. No, no, no," Mulder recoiled in horror. "No, no, no, no, no."  
"Oh, yes. And I'm going to meet *all* your old friends. Especially the ones who called you..."  
"Don't say it, don't say it."  
"Fox."  
"Ugh."  
"Yup. Today's going to be a *good* day."  
"Mr. Mulder? Miss Scully?" They'd reached the sign-in desk.  
"Yes, hello."  
"We saved that body for you. Although, frankly, we don't know what you're looking for. Just an old man who died in a trailer park."  
"Well..."  
"Here's where I leave you, Scully. I gotta go interview Elvis Malfoy. Have fun!" Before she could protest, Mulder had trotted off and taken the car.   
"Miss Scully, about this autopsy report," the man behind the counter said.  
"What about it?"  
"The date. It was the right date--except for the year. You wrote the date for fifty years ago!"  
"What? Let me see that." She seized the clipboard the was holding. "No, no--there must be some mistake. This is the right year." She looked doubtfully down at the paper.  
The man gave her a funny look. "If you say so, Miss Scully." He gestured towards the examination room. "Go ahead, then." As she strode away, still looking confused, he muttered under his breath, "Americans are so odd..."  
  
*********  
  
(Authors' Note: Okay, we'll be nice and go back to Alsatia's story)  
"Your wife--my mother--was on sabbatical in Africa. You knew that part. What you *didn't* know is that Snape," she said the name with disdain, "was also in Africa at the time. He'd followed her there. He'd gotten a bit--off--in his old age...well, he wasn't that old. In his sixties, really. Anyway. He'd followed her there for one purpose--I already told you what the purpose was. I don't know the specifics, except that he used the Imperius curse to make her do what he wanted, but he wound up raping her, and then running off.  
"Hermione was very broken up about it, and quite understandably, too. She was staying at friend's in Africa--you knew that, too, I'm sure--and she went to her friend for support. That friend was the person who wound up raising me. Neville Longbottom?"  
"*Neville*?" Ron was aghast. "No. Really? He never told us."  
"Yes," she said mournfully. "He died last year. I was heartbroken."  
Harry looked ashen. "Yes, we heard about the incident with the wayward butterly and the teddy bear. Neville...we've known him since forever."  
"Yeah, poor old Neville. Don't you leave me, too, Harry!" (Authors' Note: Hannah wanted to add 'em all, but I refused)  
"I won't, Ron."  
"Neville was very dear to me," Alsatia continued, "he was like my father." Ron snickered at that. "But he was never very coordinated. If anyone could die that way, it was Neville. He left a letter for you two--said it was imperative you get it. Here." She dug a hand into her coat and pulled out a thick envelope, handing it to Harry. "But to get back to the story: when I was about fifteen, I became obsessed with the idea of finding my family again. Neville warned me against it. He said I didn't want to split up my mother's family--I understood that part, even though it frustrated me--but I wanted to find my father. So I did. When I was old enough, when I was eighteen, I left home and went in search of him. Found him in a nursing home--of course--and he told me he didn't want me." Tears came to her eyes. "I already knew about how I'd come to be, but I thought that maybe there could possibly be some love there. But there wasn't."  
Ron, overcome by emotion, stood up and made a very, very slow journey across the room to pat her on the back. Harry, during this time, took a lovely, refreshing nap. He woke up when Alsatia began to speak again. "I insisted that Snape loved me. It was ridiculous, I knew even then, but I so wanted to believe that my own father wouldn't abandon me. But when I persisted, he grew furious, and snagged my wand. He was advancing me, prepared to *kill* me--I grabbed it back, threw off his balance, and--well--he fell out a window.  
"It seems ridiculous, I know, but it happened. I'm sorry the whole incident ever happened. I'm sorry I even went there. I'm sorry I even exist," she finished with a melancholy sigh.  
"I've got it!" Harry exclaimed suddenly. "Honeycomb!" (Authors' Note: Okay, we lied)  
"In chocolate milk!"  
Alsatia had to laugh. In fact, she had to double over in laughter and fall to the floor.  
Ron reached across the gap between the chairs and shook Harry's hand. "Now if only *we* could try it. Got any giraffes?"  
  
*********  
  
And so ends another ridiculous chapter of our flight of fancy. Reviews are asked for on bended knee. Preferably nice reviews.   
Note from Hannah: Ha, ha! Told ya the time setting would make sense! Neener-neener! ::blows raspberry:: 


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